Till There Was You
by BelieveInHeroes
Summary: Post Reichenbach. Sherlock and John are struggling to get by without one another. Both there lives are turning for the worst. This story is a collab fanfiction about Reichenbach and after the reunion.
1. Chapter 1

Authors Note:

Hello! I just thought I'd give everyone some info on this fanfiction here. First of all this is not a story I will be writing on my own. If you are confused then I shall take the time to explain. This is a collab. So yes it's a team effort. The way we have split this all up is that I will be writing in the point of view (P.O.V) of Doctor John Watson. While my partner in crime will be writing in Sherlock's point of view. Well I'm not sure point of view is the right thing to call it. It's more like the chapter is driven by ether John or Sherlock. Also just another note, this story will be set at a T rating for the first little bit but it will become M. Not sure when or how Mature this story will be but the rating none the less in time will go up!

Please enjoy! All reviews are more then welcome feedback is great.

John Watson P.O.V

"I'd one of those bad days

Yeah, it left me a scar

One of those where the sun don't shine like she used to."

They were never exactly the same. Sometimes John would be looking above to the hospital rood, or in others he would be on the roof behind Sherlock. However, there was always one thing that stayed the same in all of these nightmares. The sound of Sherlock smashing into the pavement below.

This dream maybe have been so far the worse. John found himself on the rooftop with Sherlock. In this dream Sherlock was already dead. It was terrible to have to look at the decomposing skeleton of your best friend. The consulting detective had his bony fingers wrapped around his cellphone.

"Goodbye John," the dead man spoke. The army doctor screamed but Sherlock of course couldn't hear him.

Arms stretched out like frail wings, head up to the sky, Sherlock leaned forward. John soon enough was looking over the ledge as the other man fell. But just before the bag of bones collided with the pavement grave John shut his eyes. There was a loud chilling cracking sound. John slowly opened his eyes expecting to see the mess of Sherlock's body, but, instead found himself in his bedroom in 221B.

With a grunt John Watson fell into his arm chair. The cane he had once again become reliant on lay close to his feet. The man took a bite of his toast and reached for the remote so he could flick on the t.v.

"It had been five months since the fake genius Sherlock Holmes com-" the news reporter began but John had already turned the t.v back off before he could listen to anymore of the report. It hurt, it hurt more than anything. More than being shot. It hurt John to think about Sherlock. There was a hole in his life, one that would never leave him.

There wasn't much to live for anymore. He worked as much as he could. But when John had some free time we spent it alone in the flat that was once shared. Watson rarely said a word unless he had to. It was as though he was just the empty shell of a man.

Weekends, the man hated them. There was nothing to do anymore. John didn't work on Saturdays or Sundays. His therapist said he needed the break. John ran his fingers through his hair and slowly got up. He needed a shower.

The warm pelts of water burst against his bare skin. John closed his eyes and tilted his chin up to the shower head. Water streamed down his face and fell to the floor after jumping from his chin.

A tear then slipped slowly down the mans cheek. Then another, and another. John rarely let himself cry but he just couldn't stop the tears now.

He missed it. He missed it all. The cases, the clients, the blogging. He missed the laughs, the times he was happy, the times he was mad. He missed saving Sherlock's life. John missed the experiments, the violin at three in the morning, and the bullets that had been shot into the wall between cases.

But more then anything, John missed Sherlock. He missed Sherlock's blue eyes, his messy hair, John missed the feeling of being short when they stood side by side. He missed the complaining, the yelling, the insults, Sherlock's coy smile, the texts, the mystery, the sauciness, the pouting, the deduction. Hell, John even missed feeling stupid around Sherlock.

Life just felt like a dream. Nothing seemed real anymore. It was like John was sleep walking all the time. His mind foggy and blank. He had never been one for having to much hope in things. He was never one for wasting time dreaming. But there was a part of John that wished and prayed that maybe he'd wake up one day and these five months would be a dream. He'd be able to see Sherlock working away. He'd be able to feel alive again.

John slowly stepped out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around himself. The man limped over to the small mirror over the bathroom sink. The glass was all fogged over. Watson lifted his right hand and slid it against the glass. The man moved his hand. He had cleared away enough of the fog that half of his face was looking clearly back at him. His face was lifeless. The man looked as dead as he felt.

The laptop purred softly as John clicked on the Internet browser. He was never completely sure why he did this or even how he started it but it was maybe the most comforting thing in his life at the moment.

Moving the mouse over to the search bar, John typed in the address to Sherlock's website, The Science of Deduction. Nothing of course ever changed on the site but John really didn't care. He could easily waste away a day off work just siting and reading all the posts Sherlock had once written.

It was almost as though when John would read the posts that he could imagine Sherlock perched upon the arm of the couch or on top of his favorite chair. The man would have his hands resting under his chin. Elbows placed on his thighs. There was a happy feeling when John would take the time to do this. Because even for a little while his best friend was back in the flat being his same old self. John just wished that when he read the last word that Holmes wouldn't fade away like he hadn't ever even been there.


	2. Chapter 2

"Sherlock?" a voice questions, lifting Sherlock out of his light sleep. Without opening his eyes he concludes that he fell asleep in the worst possible place. Silently he curses, drawing his coat tightly around himself.

"Sherlock?" the voice questions again, the pitch slightly higher, hinting at fear, and potentially paranoia. Sherlock smiles to himself, it's the first time in a long time he has heard that voice as anything other than cool, calm, and collected. Sherlock looks up at his brother, Mycroft's face emotionless, but his eyes giving him away. He's afraid.

Sherlock unfolds himself from his chair Aches and pains pull at his joints, protesting how he spent the night.

"Yes, Mycroft," Sherlock groans, pulling himself out of the chair, "it is me." He smiles half heartedly.

"You died, Sherlock." Mycroft states circling his brother, his brows furrowed in confusion. "Five months ago, you died. Dammit Sherlock, I saw your body, I identified you!" Mycroft grabs Sherlock's coat. "Sherlock, nothing has been the same, this better not be one of your blood experiments."

"A bloody experiment?" Sherlock yells. "You think this was an experiment? I know what happened because of my death. I know that Lestrade took a break from work, because he blamed himself. I know that Mummy is angry, and heartbroken. And John…" Sherlock starts turning to look at the wall of screens "and John is a shell of himself." He whispers. "I wouldn't have done it, if I didn't have to, Mycroft.

"I trust you've told no one of my presence here." Sherlock mutters, his eyes locked on the screen showing John scrolling through his laptop. He withdraws a pack of cigarettes from his coat, and lights it.

"Of course not, Sherlock, I would appear quite crazy if I clamed my dead brother was in my house." Mycroft says accepting the cigarette Sherlock offers. "I thought you had quit."

"Good, as far as everyone knows I'm still dead." He says "Being dead changes you." He sighs blowing out a large puff of smoke.

They smoke in silence. Sherlock watching John, Mycroft watching Sherlock, each noting the sadness of the one being observed.

"You should let him know you are alive," Mycroft says placing his hand on his younger brother's shoulder.

"It's not safe for him," Sherlock glares at Mycroft, "if he knows, Moriarty's men will know, and my trick will be for nothing." Sherlock notes the confusion on Mycroft's face. "It was either me, or Ms Hudson, Lestrade, and – John. There are men out there making sure that I didn't pull anything." He throws himself back into the chair and scowls at the screen, showing all of London.

"So, what are you going to do, you can't think you are going to take them down by yourself."

"Who else is goi-" He trails off, his eyes lighting up with an idea, he springs out of the chair. "Of course not, Mycroft, you are going to help me."

"Asking for help, Sherlock? Didn't know you had it in you." Mycroft chuckles. "Why would I help you, Sherlock? I can't just drop everything and leave for you. In case you have forgotten, I do have an important job to uphold."

Sherlock groans sinking back into the chair. "No, not you, not directly, you can make people help me, you have power. Obviously they will be doing the dirty work, making arrests, and all that. BUT I can figure out where they are, I can lead your men to them." Sherlock's eyes glisten with excitement at the thought of the job. "The more people on this, the quicker I can come back."

"Sherlock, I can't just have people go running around the world so you can come back." Mycroft sits in the other chair. "What incentive do I have to help you?"

Sherlock groans, "Let me explain it to you."


	3. Chapter 3

John P.O.V

"And it's over

And I'm going under

But I'm not giving up

I'm just giving in"

She was perfect. Well, to John at least. Mary was polite and was also very attractive John had to admit. There was just something about the way she smiled that made her seem so Innocent and well everything that was good in the world.

Mary and John had met about nine month after Sherlock's death. John had been doing a little better than before. Now the man enjoyed spending his time going for walks or visiting the library. He even went to movies alone sometimes.

It was a sunny Friday afternoon and John had the day off work. He had decided to spend this free time at the library.

She was carrying a rather large stack of books and he wasn't watching where he was going. When the two bumped into one another all her books came crashing to the of course quickly bent down to help her gather the books. And the rest they say is history.

They took things rather slow, far slower then John usually took relationships but he just didn't want to rush this relationship with her.

First Date:

John took a cab to Mary's small house. They weren't too far from one of John's favorite restaurants so the man decided they could just walk.

It had only just been over a year since Sherlock death and the man was still haunted by it. However the army doctor was trying his best to be cheerful around Mary so as not to worry her.

She looked stunning as she always did. Her long blond hair was curled and she was wearing a very flattering dress. Watson couldn't help the smile that crept slowly onto his lips when he saw her.

In the end the night had gone perfectly and the two had planned another date.

Two months of dating:

John and Mary weren't the kind of couple that enjoyed having anniversary's every month. They found each others company was more then enough for the both of them.

The two often went out for supper and a movie. The lovers aimed for at least once a week. They also sometimes just ate together at 221B. One would say they were almost perfect for one another. Matching puzzle pieces.

It was nice how Mary could take all the thoughts of Sherlock out of John's mind when she was around. Maybe that was why he liked her hanging around him so much. It was then that his mind wasn't so stressed. He felt calm and at peace.

It was a nice evening so the couple had decided to walk in the park which was not to far away from Baker Street.

Mary's hands were soft and small, Her fingers were tangled in his own as they walked side by side under the bright star painted sky. The woman yawned and leaned her head on John's shoulder. It was getting late.

The cab came to a stop on the street in front of Mary's little town house. John got out of the car first, moved as fast as his limp would let him to her side of the car and opened the door for her. Mary smiled and got out. She then began to walk up the path way to her home. John followed.

"Goodnight John," she said sweetly. John wished her a goodnight as well. However Mary didn't go inside and John didn't get back in the cab. After a few seconds Watson leaned in and softly pressed his lips against hers.

Three months of dating:

Harry had come to visit John for a few weeks. The mans sister had known how much he was hurt but Sherlock's passing and she worried. Harry had even stopped drinking because she knew her brother didn't like it as well he didn't need to worry about anything more. The two siblings had grown close again which Harry was thankful for. She knew her brother need her support.

It was nice having Harry around. He felt less alone when Mary wasn't with him because Harry was there. They played games together like Cluedo and John even at one point found himself laughing at something his sister had said.

Harry and Mary got along fairly well. However John could tell that his sister found his girlfriend boring and dull. Harry however was a far more flamboyant person then John and looked for anyone who was crazy just as she was. Harry of course would admit this to John because he was happy with Mary and that was all that really mattered to her.

Maybe he could move on and live without Sherlock. He was doing really well. Even his limp as starting to fade again. He could smile and laugh again. He was happy. The man's heart didn't feel so heavy anymore. It was like he was almost just almost alive again.

Four months of dating:

John was doing just fine even after Harry had left to go back home. Before she had left John had said that she was welcome back anytime she wanted. This made Harry happy.

All had been going well up until one lazy Sunday afternoon. Mary was over and John had just made the two of them cups of tea. Before John could sit down and talk with Mary there was a knock at the door. The army Doctor looked up in the direction of the sound.

"Come in," Watson called. The man expected to see waiting behind the door but when the door was pulled open it was Mycroft who was waiting on the other side. John froze. He hadn't talked to Mycroft since Sherlock's funeral. There must have been a terrified look on his face because soon enough Mary was by his side her hand placed lightly on his arm.

"Hello John," Mycroft smiled slightly.

"Mycroft hello, care for some tea?" Watson asked and relaxed slightly.

"No thanks, I came to just pick up Sherlock violin."

John flinched at the mention of Sherlock's name.

"Oh uhm of course. You can wait here and I'll go get it,"Watson smiled weakly and made his way into Sherlock's room.

His fingers wrapped around the cases handle. John however didn't hurry back to Mycroft. Instead he placed the instrument case up on Sherlock's bed.

Quickly John snapped the silver latches and opened up the case. The army doctor sighed sadly. He placed two fingers to his lips and the softly to the cold wooden instrument.

"Goodbye," he whispered. It was the. That something inside of John just snapped and he felt as though he were about to cry. He felt lost again. Instead of giving in John just shook off the feelings, closed the violin case, and returned back to Mycroft. He wouldn't allow himself to break down until he was alone.

Five months of dating:

He had stopped replying to her texts ad returning her calls. John was slowly slipping back into the life of what seemed to be like the walking dead. He felt so lifeless again. Whatever had broken inside of him that day when Mycroft took Sherlock's violin had changed him. He was no longer happy. He couldn't smile anymore because there was nothing good in this world. John just felt dead.

She had come to visit him one day when he had finished work. John had let her in without a word. He had gone back to barely speaking unless it was necessary.

"John listen," Mary spoke as she stood in the door way of 221B Baker Street. And listen John did. The army Doctor just stared blankly back at her. Mary sighed and began "I don't know what has happened to you. I wish I could I help I really do but you're just pushing me away. Maybe it's best if we just split up.

John nodded.

"Yes, I'm better off alone."


End file.
